Page 40 of Fighting

Shua carefully hands the soft carrier to Jim, who puts the animal in its temporary home.

On the other wall, a second slightly larger structure is coming together, this one with five enclosures.

Jim sidles up beside me. “We’ve got five rabbits looking for homes too, so we’ll set them up here. That okay?”

“Totally. What do we need to know to care for them?”

I’m beyond excited for Mateo to return and meet his new housemates. By the time the festival begins, he’ll know for certain he isn’tthatinterested in me. He’s just killing time, and I won’t be someone’s second choice, waiting at home again.

“They need clean water and food daily; I’ll leave instructions for each species. You can decide how often you want to change the litter. But either way, it’s not going to smell like rainbows and unicorns.”

Aw, he tried to make a joke.

When the group is finished, they’ve housed three kittens. One is a short-haired black cat with piercing yellow eyes. The other two are orange and cream colored with spots and stripes.

“These two look so similar. Are they from the same litter?” Shua asks, wide-eyed.

“They’re sisters,” Jim says. “We can actually remove the wall between them if you’d like. That way they can hang out together. It will be good to give them time to socialize each day.”

“They can socialize?” I ask, imagining the snuggles I’m about to get.

“In this case, yes. The kittens are young and docile. But be vigilant. Without proper supervision, the cats could attack the rabbits like prey. But when raised together, they are capable of being friends. In fact…” Jim leans in, his lips turning up in an oily smile. “You deal with Dominants and subordinates at work, right?”

“Sure, sometimes.” I steel myself to maintain indifference.

“And how do you identify who is who?”

Jim is really testing my patience here.

“Excuse me?”

“They’re humans. I assume the answer is they’d tell you. Correct?”

Oh, maybe this is less gross than I feared.

“Yes. There are contracts and long conversations and ethics that are determined between the consenting parties.” Where the hell is he going with this?

“Right. In this situation, the cat believes the Dom needs to groom the sub, but from the rabbits’ perspective, the Dom receives the grooming. So if you have two of them out together, and the cat start to clean the bunny’s fur, just know you’re watching two stupid Doms who think they’re both in charge.”

Strangely curious now, I tilt my head. “So who is actually dominant?”

Jim only shrugs. “Depends on who you ask.” With that, he strides from the room.

Shua grins at me. “You’re up to something, aren’t you?”

I give him a sly smile and put an arm around him, steering him toward the doorway. “No. No. No. I’m just doing my part for the fine people of Peacock Springs. Let’s get you home, baby brother.”

I’m waitingon the blue plaid couch, fighting a shit-eating grin and watching the clock. It’s almost seven p.m. Where is this man?

I need to fill this time, and as I sit here, I realize that I can continue my subtle sabotage by messing with his streaming algorithm. I navigate to a rerun of one of my comfort shows, one of the few he didn’t introduce me to. Only to find that he’s in the middle of my favorite season. Huh. That makes stirring shit up even more fun for me. If I’m lucky, he won’t notice right away, and he’ll end up confused about pieces of the plot he’s missed. I press Play and continue to wait.

The sound of the door shutting startles me, and I realize I’ve drifted off. The screen has gone black, with a message that asks if I’d like to continue watching.

At the door, Mateo removes his shoes and coat, then puts them in the closet. As he turns, he runs a hand through his floppy black hair. He looks weary from the day, his eyes droopy and tired. His usually pressed dress shirt is rumpled and the top two buttons are undone.

He’s starting to undo his belt when I let out a wolf whistle.

“Holy shit, Ivy,” he nearly shouts, clasping his chest. The surprise only lasts a heartbeat before he gets back to undressing. Quickly, he shucks his pants and slips his dress shirt from his shoulders. Now in a pair of boxers in some sort of neon print reminiscent of the 1990s and a white undershirt, he walks in and rubs the top of my head like I’m the family dog.

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